Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(47)

And Twins, but I hope he forgets everything he said to me today.



* * *



We ride through the night. Though most of those guards were unconscious, I don’t know how many of them were dead. I just hope their injuries are severe enough to seek help and not pursue us.

Kellyn returns to himself over the next couple of days, and he tries to hide the pain in his arm.

“Here,” I say, handing over a makeshift sling.

“Thank you.”

If he remembers anything of what he said while concussed, he doesn’t say anything about it.

With the other horse long gone, we have to continue to share. We spend more time walking than riding, however, because the poor gelding can’t carry two for as long.

“I can hold the reins,” he says one morning after we’ve had a good night’s rest. He climbs atop the horse behind the saddle, clearly intending me to take the spot in front of him.

“You’re injured. I’ll continue to take the reins.”

His eyes shadow beneath his brow.

“If something were to start chasing us, it’s better that I be in control. Me taking the reins isn’t going to make you less manly.”

“That’s not—”

“Isn’t it?”

When he doesn’t answer, I say, “Scoot forward.”

He does.



* * *



Every day, we replace the bandages on Kellyn’s arm. I boil water from the stream to clean the bloodied strips, then replace them. He needs to keep the open wound covered, lest infection set in.

But after another week on the road, I feel the extra heat from his right arm. That night, when I remove the bandages, a smell comes from the wound, and white liquid drains from it.

I draw in a breath through my teeth. “We need to clean this out.”

He’s silent a moment. “All right.” He reaches on the ground with his good arm, finds a broken stick, and bites down on it.

“Do it,” he says, the words barely intelligible around the wood.

I’m terrified I’m only going to injure him more than he already is. I’ve never done anything like this before, but I’ve seen it done. I’ve cut myself on metal plenty of times and had to visit the Lirasu healer.

I angle his arm up gently so the wound is parallel with the ground. “I need you to hold your arm like this.”

He brings up his knee so he can rest his elbow there.

“Do you want to look away?” I ask.

“No.”

“All right.” I place my fingers on either side of the wound and press down and slightly in. Something like a whimper, only much louder comes out of Kellyn’s mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I watch the white liquid ooze to the ground.

I rinse off the top of the wound with more water, then go again, pinching the spot around the arrow shaft.

Kellyn’s scream is barely muffled by the stick, and his free hand reflexively goes to me. He grips my shoulder, his fingers digging in.

“That’s it. Just one more time.”

“I—I don’t think I can,” he says, letting the stick fall from his mouth.

“You can. We have to get as much out as possible.”

“I think I’d rather die.”

“Don’t say that!”

His breathing is ragged, and I know he needs a distraction from the wound.

The obvious solution hits me like a hammer.

Kiss him.

Go on. Initiate it. Right now.

No, no. I can’t. I’m not ready.

You’ll never be ready. This is something you just need to do. It’s an important step for you. Time won’t make it easier. You’ll just overthink it more.

But what if I do it wrong? Or if he doesn’t want it? Or—

“I can promise I will never refuse a kiss from you.”

Didn’t he say that to me once? But what if he’s changed his mind? So much is different now, and—

For Twins’ sake, Ziva, he’s in unimaginable pain, and you sit there arguing with yourself like an idiot.

He took an arrow. The least you can do is distract the man.

The unbelievably beautiful and kind and wonderful man you never stop thinking about.

Fine!

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab Kellyn’s face with both of my hands to angle him toward me and lean in.

My nose stubs against his cheek before my lips touch his, and I think maybe I’ve done something very wrong when his whole body tenses beneath me.

Oh Goddesses, back up. Back up. But I’ve lost my balance, and I’m already here. And I can’t just shrug this off. However will I explain it away? I should at least do what I set out to do, shouldn’t I?

I move my lips across his in the way they’ve done dozens of times before. It’s hard to tell if I’m doing it right, when he’s just sitting there like a stone. Am I pressing too hard? Too soft? Should I say something?

Maybe I should stand and walk away. Pretend it never happened. Maybe I’ll trip over a rock and fall into a ditch and die from embarrassment so I won’t have to face him again after this.

I tighten the hands pressed against his jawline, preparing to push off, when he suddenly moves.

At first, I think maybe he’s going to shove me away, but the hand on my shoulder is pulling me closer, and his lips start moving with mine. It takes me far too long to realize he’s kissing me back.